


Let's (not) take this slow

by hopelessbookgeek



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, human theta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessbookgeek/pseuds/hopelessbookgeek
Summary: In which North is a single dad on a long dry spell, York's just looking to have a little fun, and Wash match-makes like his life depends on it.





	1. Always Too Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is set before "Learn to break instead of bend" but is completely unrelated. Consider checking that one out if you hate happiness like I do or just sit back and enjoy the ride!

Wash was grimly pouring excess coffee into the trash when York got to the coffee shop. “They never leave enough room for the milk,” he said by way of greeting. “I specifically ask every time for enough room for milk and they never do it. I think the girl behind the counter hates me.”

“That makes two of us, then. You order me anything?”

“Yeah, caramel vanilla latte.” He held it out and York sipped it gratefully. It was too sweet– Wash always ordered it too sweet– but he didn’t have the heart to correct him, so too sweet it was. “I brought a friend along, that okay?”

“Sure, I don’t care. What’s her name?”

“He. It’s a guy.”

“You have male friends? Is he straight?”

“Eh, only relatively.” Wash finished with his coffee and looked at York for the first time, smiling. He hadn’t shaved that morning and his hair had started greying at the temples, but with that smile and shining eyes, he couldn’t help but look sweet, young, and innocent. “C’mon, come say hello.”

The friend, as it happened, was _gorgeous_. He was taller even than Wash but powerfully built, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, with pale smooth skin. They were both blondes but Wash was dirty-ash while his friend was closer to golden. His blue eyes were downturned, making him look tired, but his smile was warm and genuine. “North, this is the friend I was telling you about. York, this is North.”

York shook his hand. “North? As in America?”

“As in Dakota,” he corrected. “My last name is Dakota, I have a twin sister, the nickname stuck.”

“Huh. That’s kind of neat. Well, I’m York.”

“Nice to meet you, York. Wash has told me a lot about you.”

“All disgraceful, I hope.”

North laughed, a low chuckle. “Nothing incriminating, if that’s what you meant.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” He and Wash took seats opposite North and he sipped his coffee. North turned to Wash.

“So, I hear you just got another cat,” he said in the tone of a man who’s had to use that phrase more than once before. “How many does that make now?”

“It makes four, and don’t take that tone with me.” He flashed a grin. “What d’you think, York? Is it time to name one after you?” York groaned. “He’s not a cat person,” Wash explained, and North nodded.

“Dogs are gentle and kind,” York said. “Cats are disdainful!”

“So are you, and I still like you.” He lightly punched York’s arm. “Alright, I won’t name her after you. Any suggestions?”

“Hm. Well, one of my girls is called Allison, that’s a pretty name.”

“Oh, do you have kids?” North asked.

“No, no. I’m a, uh, camp counselor at the Y? This time of year I do kickboxing and self-defense. A lot of little girls in my classes.”

“That’s really interesting. A lot of little girls, huh? I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Yeah, they’re young enough that they haven’t been shamed out of liking physical activity yet. They love it, it’s tons of fun. What do you do?”

“I teach history down at the high school.”

“Oh, wow, that’s awesome! Do you like it?”

“Love it. It can be frustrating as all hell, but worth it.”

Wash checked his phone and abruptly stood up. “Guys, I just remembered I have a doctor’s appointment, I gotta go.”

“Oh,” North said, surprised. “Well, we can all meet up again later, if you’re free.”

“No, you guys can carry on without me. York, call me later, alright? North, my man, have a good day.” He saluted York with perfect form and left, and North watched York watching Wash.

“His salute is perfect.”

“He’s not supposed to do that inside, or out of uniform. I’ve told him that before.” York drained the last of his coffee.

“Why does he salute you?”

“I’m ex-army.” He smiled across the table at North. “Does that surprise you?”

“You know, York, I’m starting to think that a lot about you will surprise me.” He returned the smile, wide and sweet, and there was the trace of a dimple in his right cheek.

They talked for hours, until the barista told them they had to buy something or leave, so because it was a beautiful spring day, they decided to just go for a walk and didn’t stop talking the entire time. Eventually, York realized that they’d wound up outside his house and said so.

“I’m guessing that’s my cue to head home, then,” North said with a smile. “But it was really nice meeting you, York.”

“It was really nice to meet you too, North.” They shuffled a little awkwardly, neither willing to make the first goodbye. York wondered, looking up, if North would lean down and kiss him; he thought he wanted him to, but wasn’t sure he wanted to make that move himself.

“So, um, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come to dinner on Tuesday?”

“Oh, I have to work on Tuesday.” North’s face fell. “But I’m free on Thursday!”

Another sweet smile. “I can pick you up around six if you’d like.” He noticeably hesitated. “But there is something you should know about me before you come over…”

Oh, God. Did he have a wife? Was he a sex fiend with a BDSM dungeon? Actually, that one would probably be fun. Did he live with his parents? “What?”

“I– I have a son.”

Oh, thank God. “How old is he?”

North blinked in surprise. “W-what?”

“I… just asked how old he is.”

A sharp exhale. “You don’t care that I have a kid?”

York shrugged. “I work with kids all day. I love kids. I’ll probably have kids myself someday, I’d be happy to meet your son. So how old is he?”

“He’s five. Do you want to see a picture?” He was all proud daddy now that relief had swept away his anxiety, and when York nodded he pulled out his wallet and showed off a picture of the most beautiful little boy, round-cheeked and blonde with his father’s serious blue eyes.

“Oh, he’s beautiful, North. What’s his name?”

“Theodore, but he goes by Theta.”

“Oh. Why?”

“He just thinks it’s cool.”

“It is cool. How about you?”

“I think it’s cool too.”

He shook his head and smiled. “I mean, _his_ real name is Theodore. What’s yours?”

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. “You know what, come to dinner on Thursday and maybe you’ll find out.”

“Oh, you’re wicked. I like that.” North’s eyes widened fractionally and it was obvious that his thoughts went to a very specific place. “So does today count as a– a date?”

“It can. Do you want it to?”

“Well, it’s just that I don’t kiss on the first date, so I need to know if Thursday will make the second or not.”

North’s eyes crinkled at the corner with amusement. “If that’s the criterion, I’d say this definitely counts as a first date.”

York grinned. “I can get behind that. So I’ll see you on Thursday?”

“You’ve got it?” He waved and started walking back the way they’d come, whistling. As soon as he was out of sight, York ran inside and called Wash.

“Hey, Wash? You’re not gonna believe…”


	2. Isn't That Something?

York spent an hour on Thursday getting ready. What did you wear on a sort-of second date? At the guy’s house? When you were meeting his _kid?_ He had to call Carolina for advice. “Like, do I wear a tie?”

“ _No, you don’t wear a tie. Nice dark jeans and a clean shirt would work fine. You don’t want to look too nice, you might intimidate the son._ ”

He sighed and looked at the mess he’d made of his closet. “I have a button down that might work.”

“ _What color?_ ”

“Like a medium blue with a few thin white stripes?”

“ _Jeans and your Converse. You’ll be fine._ ”

“Alright. Thanks, Carolina.”

“ _No problem, I know you’d die without me. Hey, you want to go out clubbing this weekend?_ ”

“Where?” He cradled the phone against his ear and dug through his dresser for his nice jeans, the ones that made his ass look the best.

“ _This new place opened up downtown, it’s called Ererra, I think.”_

“Sure, sounds good. I’ve been meaning to show you my sick new dance moves.”

“ _If that’s what you want to call them. I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy your date, I want all the gossip before I have to hear it secondhand from Wash.”_

“Cross my heart. Talk to you later.” He hung up and dressed quickly, ran a comb through his hair and shoved his shoes on without untying them first. Carolina would have lectured him about that if she could see that– _it ruins the backs, York_ – but he was in a hurry and anyway, he’d never listened to Carolina as much as he should.

He probably should have asked North to pick him up; his Jeep wasn’t strictly _street legal_ and the last thing he needed was another ticket. But there was something very high school about needing to be picked up for a date, it felt, and he wanted to pretend to be the self-sufficient adult that he absolutely was not, so he put North’s address into his phone’s GPS, grabbed the brownies he made for Theta, and headed out.

It was only a few minutes away and North’s street was the prettiest type of middle-class residential, with a veritable rainbow of Cape Cods and imitation Victorians. North had a ranch house painted yellow with white trim, with neat hedges and a somewhat haphazard row of blooming flowers under the windows. All it was missing was the literal white picket fence.

When York rang the bell, Theta opened the door looking just like his picture, his father in round-cheeked miniature. “Hey, buddy,” York said with a smile. “Is your dad here?”

“Are you here for dinner?” he said, and York nodded.

“Can I come in?” Theta stood aside to let him and called for his dad. North appeared from around the corner, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

“Hi, York, come on in. How are you?”

“Good, thanks, you?”

“Can’t complain.” He nodded to the pan in York’s hands. “What have you got there?”

“Oh, uh… I made brownies.” He shouldn’t have been embarrassed by that; there was literally and genuinely nothing embarrassing about bringing dessert. Although maybe he should have brought wine. But he was embarrassed anyway, or maybe just nervous.

“Oh, Theta will love those. By the way, Theta, this is my friend York. York, my son Theta.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Theta.” He held out his hand to see if he wanted to shake and he did.

“Theta, did you want to say something to York for making you dessert?”

“Thank you, York,” he said in his sweet little child’s voice.

“Aw, you’re welcome, buddy.” He watched him scurry off to sit in front of the TV and followed North into the kitchen, setting the pan on the counter. “Sweet kid. He looks just like you, it’s unbelievable. Did you clone him?”

North chuckled. “Might as well have. Here, take a seat, I’m just finishing up.”

Ooh, spaghetti and meatballs. Simple, but goddamn, not unwelcome. “If you don’t mind me asking… his mother…?”

“Not in the picture, never was. We were… unhappy. The pregnancy was accidental, and she wasn’t interested in sticking around. I haven’t seen her in years. To be completely honest, this is the first date I’ve been on since he was born.” He flushed just the faintest amount. “Sorry, that might have been more than you wanted to know.”

“No, I appreciate the honesty. Speaking of honesty, what’s your real name?”

North laughed. “You’re obsessed with that. If you tell me why, I’ll tell you.”

Well, he wouldn’t be able to be completely honest here without making it weird. In truth he wanted to know everything there was about North; he was happy to keep calling him his preferred nickname, but there is a certain power in a true name and he wanted to be privy to a secret like that. He could already tell North was going to be different than his last boyfriend, or the one before. North was destined to be something special. 

“I think the names we choose to go by say a lot about us. I think it’s cool you made the best of your shitty last name and your twin sister, and instead of growing apart from her you chose a name that made you inherently incomplete without her. But you _know_ the jokes are awful. So I’m wondering what name is shitty enough that made you want to pretend to be a state.”

North smiled, but only a little, like a secret. “I think you’re just the curious sort. _Nosy_ , more like it.” The dimple in his cheek made York almost compelled to smile back.

“Maybe so. Definitely so, actually.”

“In that case, to satisfy curiosity, my name is Nikolai. I don’t have a middle name so don’t ask.”

“Nikolai.” It wasn’t a bad name, actually, sharp and bright. “You’re Russian?”

“I am. Among other things.”

“No offense, but Nikolai Dakota is a horrible name.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Why do you think I go by North? So what about you? I’m sure your name isn’t _York_.”

He pretended to be offended. “Excuse me, my name is very much York. My last name, anyway. My first name, well, that’s a little variable. Some call me Ladykiller. Some call me Hotshot. My mom calls me Eli.”

“Eli?”

“Well, it’s Elijah, really. She just calls me Eli. And I don’t like Elijah, so I go by York. Same as how Wash doesn’t like David. What a trio we make, huh?”

“Elijah,” North repeated. York had always preferred the sharp shout of his surname to the mumbled mess of vowels that was his first name, but it sounded different in North’s voice, like something soft and reverent. _York_ was a name meant to be called across a crowded room and that always suited him just fine, but _Elijah_ was a name meant to be whispered. “Well, I like both names.”

“And now we know each other.” York grinned, all teeth. “Isn’t that something?”


	3. Ten Thousand Future Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this took three months don't LOOK at me

“So, Theta,” York said over a plate of spaghetti. “What’s your very favorite thing?”

His eyes lit up and York hid a smile. Kids were _great_ , he didn’t have to try and make conversation at all or ask specific questions. What’s your favorite thing? Life would be easier if adults asked each other big questions like that.

“Legos!” he answered. He gripped his fork like a snow shovel. There were dots of sauce on his collar and chin but York couldn’t deny his efficiency at moving spaghetti from point A to point B. “And _Star Wars_ , and… dogs.”

“You know, I have a dog. I’ll have to have you meet him someday.”

“A dog!” He looked at his father with wide blue eyes, like York had just offered him the world on a platter. “Can I? Daddy can I?”

“Of course,” North said with a soft smile. “Whenever York says it’s okay.”

“Yeah, my schedule’s pretty open. I think I have a picture…” He dug out his phone and scrolled through the pictures, but it wasn’t hard. Every owner of a new puppy has ten thousand pictures to choose from. He held the phone towards Theta, out of spaghetti sauce-splatter range but close enough that he could see. “He’s a golden retriever puppy. His name’s Delta. I bet he’d love to meet you.”

“Delta and Theta,” North said.

“Yeah, I know. Coincidence, huh? But I named him after the military code, not the Greek letter.” He took the phone back and Theta looked sad to see it go. “He was supposed to be a service dog but he failed out of service dog school.”

“What’s that mean?” Theta asked.

“Well, it means they were trying to teach him to help people. So if they couldn’t see, he could guide them around a little, or pick things up off the floor for them. But he just wanted to play with everybody instead. He’s _really_ good at giving kisses.”

Theta started to say something but North shook his head. “Swallow and then speak, please.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” York said without really thinking and North choked. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

“Keep it PG,” North rasped.

To distract from his burning face, York spooned some more sauce onto his plate and brightened immediately when he saw what he’d gotten. “Oh! The bay leaf!”

“Yes… is that exciting?”

“Yes! I got the bay leaf! It’s good luck!” He popped it into his mouth and alright, no one had ever told him that _eating_ the bay leaf was good luck, but it was worth a shot nonetheless, right?

He helped North clean up after dinner. “That was really good, thank you,” he said, rinsing the plates. “Sorry I made a blowjob joke in front of your son.”

“It went completely over his head. Don’t make a habit of it.”

He let himself smile up at North. He was not a short man, and it was nice to look up at someone for once. The kitchen light circled North’s head like a halo. “Oh,” he said with a teasing lilt to his voice, “you think you’ll be seeing enough of me to merit having _habits?”_

“Yes,” North said simply, and there was something to that. York had been in the game for a good time if not a long time, and was used to the language of innuendo, seduction, distraction. He knew implications, teases, murmured promises; he knew the language of teeth and tongue and hands. He knew _want_ , he knew _need_ , he knew _oh God please_. What he did not know was simplicity, honesty, good-natured white-light smiles in a blue-painted kitchen with _Cars 2_ playing in the background.

It was nice to be talked to like he mattered.

“Is Theta watching the movie?” he asked, setting the dishes back in the sink and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Uhh…” North craned his head to look. “Yes. He’ll be dead focused on it until the credits roll. It’s amazing, he doesn’t even blink. Why?”

“Well,” he said, letting his voice warm up like melting chocolate. “I was wondering if you wanted to make good on your second-date promise.”

“If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one with the time frame,” North said, but stepped a little closer. York could feel the body heat radiating off him and the smell of his pine-needle cologne was unusual, but attractive.

“Sorry, I have standards. Are you saying you would have kissed me at my door?”

“I’d have kissed you at the coffeeshop if I had the nerve,” he admitted, and York felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious in a while, preferring just to mess around, but Wash was one hell of a matchmaker.

“Do you have the nerve now?” he breathed.

“Oh, I’m terrified,” North said. “But, well… fall before you fly, right?” And he leaned in.

The kiss was like a lot of first kisses: hesitant, off-center, a little messy. They had to reorient themselves when their noses bumped; North deepened the kiss a little faster than York would have; York had his hands braced back on the counter while North cupped his face. They both tasted like garlic and rosemary.

It was the best first kiss York had ever had.

He would never be able to explain why, really. He’d puzzle it out later, and sure the kiss felt warm and safe and comfortable, no pushing or biting or impatience at all, and that was definitely something. But he’d had better kisses on a technical level, and he’d only met North once before and his son was in the other room and _oh God Wash was one hell of a matchmaker–_

(It would hit him later. Love at first sight might not be real, but love at first kiss sure must be, because he could taste on North’s lips the ten thousand kisses he had to give him in the future.)

(He would tell himself when he got home later that he was not desperately in love with North Dakota.)

(He would be wrong.)


End file.
